Water Margin: I am Zhu Biao

"Lost the seal?"

Although his mind was foggy, Zhu Biao still managed to piece together a general outline through a few details, and couldn't help but sneer.

"Is this something they staged themselves?"

"The hay storage area is a hot potato; who wants to get involved? I reckon that official in charge of the grain transport outside the city should have suddenly fallen ill and be unable to serve by now?"

Having worked in auditing for over a decade in his previous life, Zhu Biao was intimately familiar with the absurd yet effective tactics of bureaucracy: procrastination.

"Trouble! I still need to go to Tokyo to rescue people, I can't be trapped in Jing County by these corrupt officials."

His temples throbbed with pain, so he frowned and rubbed them vigorously.

While he was pondering, the old constable who had been scolded like a grandson had already led two assistants upstairs in a huff. When he saw Zhu Biao and his group, his eyes suddenly lit up.

A stranger from out of town, well-dressed, with a knife at his waist and calloused hands, he's the perfect target for easy prey in this situation!

"Hey you big guy, show me the way."

The old constable, his hand on his waist knife, strode up to Wu Song and glared at him menacingly.

There was no way around it; Wu Er was tall, burly, and had a fierce face, making him quite conspicuous.

"Awoo, aba~"

Wu Song looked at him blankly, pointed to his ear, and made an ambiguous sound.

This is what Zhu Biao just told us: he, Zhu San, and Zhu Wu are deaf and mute from this moment on, and are not allowed to say a word.

Zhu Biao almost laughed at him, but unexpectedly, this thick-browed and big-eyed Wu Er played the role of a mute quite convincingly. Zhu San and Zhu Wu were even more embarrassed and their faces turned red instantly.

"Cough, cough~"

Zhu Biao quickly cleared his throat, took two steps forward, and took out the official document and certificate he had prepared beforehand, handing them to the constable.

"Brother Constable, I am the Commander of the Militia in Qingzhou."

"I was dispatched by the Prefect to Daming Prefecture on official business. On my way through Jing County, several of my attendants had their ears blown off by cannon fire and were unable to speak."

When the old constable received the document, his palm felt heavy, and with a slight weighing, he knew it was two taels of silver. A smile immediately appeared on his face.

He discreetly slipped the loose silver into his sleeve, then pretended to look through the official documents and proclamations.

"Damn, what a show-off."

Judging from the old man's eyes and subtle expressions, Zhu Biao was certain that the old man didn't recognize most of the words on the official document.

"So you are the commander of the militia. My apologies. I should not have checked your room, but my superior is pressing me hard, and I am in a difficult position."

As he spoke, he deliberately handed back the official document slowly, and as expected, a small hard object fell into his palm again, weighing two ounces.

Hey, that's enough!

"To be honest, sir, there are some personal belongings in the room, which is indeed inconvenient. We are both on official business, so I hope you can be understanding."

The husband smiled and cupped his hands in a gesture of respect:

"I understand. It's not easy to do this job. I'll give you face, Commander Zhou. Do as you please."

Her husband, brimming with confidence, led his men to check the other guest rooms. Wu Song's face darkened.

"Sanlang, you are an official, after all. We didn't steal that damned official seal, so why should we give him money?"

"Second brother, when you're far from home, spending money to buy peace of mind is the safest option."

Seeing that Wu Song still had a stern face, Zhu Biao lowered his voice and teased him.

"This isn't my territory, so I have to act like a coward. If this were Dulonggang, and someone dared to extort me, I'd knock all their teeth out!"

Hey~

Wu Song couldn't hold back and revealed two rows of white teeth.

Zhu Biao had another thing to say: "Officials have two mouths; if things get serious, they can legally detain them for several months."

Putting everything else aside, just the source of the hundred taels of gold leaves he used to buy the horse is enough to cause a long argument, and he can't afford to waste time on that.

As soon as he turned around, Zhu Biao felt dizzy and almost fell over, but luckily he managed to grab the door frame in time.

"Zhu San, go and fetch a doctor immediately."

"Zhu Wu, go and patrol around the four city gates to scout out the situation. Remember, don't say a word."

After saying that, he could no longer hold on, and his vision began to blur.

"Saburo!"

Wu Song swiftly caught him, his face showing panic, his eyes even reddening with anxiety.

Unbeknownst to him, this boy, five years younger than him, had become his pillar of support, his only friend, and the only person he cared about besides his older brother.

Zhu Biao had a nightmare.

He returned to that cramped and desolate home, the home that would only truly belong to him after twenty-two years of bone marrow extraction.

It was pitch black outside the window, but in front of him were endless piles of reports. Suddenly, he felt a pain in his philtrum and opened his eyes abruptly.

The first thing I saw was an old man with gray hair, a wrinkled face, and a needle in his hand.

The next instant, the old man was suddenly pushed aside, and Wu Song's anxious square face almost filled his vision. Zhu San and Zhu Wu barely managed to grab a small corner.

"Sanlang, you're awake!"

Wu Er's voice was hoarse, and his lips were blistered.

Zhu Biao barely managed to regain his senses and, suppressing his thirst, asked:

"How long did I sleep?"

"About three hours, Sanlang, how are you feeling now?"

"It's acceptable."

Zhu Biao breathed a sigh of relief and, with Wu Song's help, sat up.

"Making a mountain out of a molehill!"

At this moment, the old doctor who had almost been pushed over came over with a dark face, angrily pushed Wu Song aside, and pulled out the needle from Zhu Biao's philtrum.

"I just had a slight cold and felt a little anxious. Now that I'm awake, a couple of doses of medicine will do the trick."

He skillfully ran the needle over the candle flame, wiped it clean, put it into his needle pouch, and finally packed it into his medicine box.

Zhu Biao, with his sharp eyes, noticed that there was also a knife sheath in his medicine box, with several knives of different sizes and colors that could be vaguely seen.

He glanced at the prescription on the table again and became interested.

"Are you proficient in all three subjects, sir?"

The Song Dynasty was the peak period of traditional Chinese medicine, which was divided into three specialties: pulse diagnosis, acupuncture, and surgery. Among them, surgery was the rarest and the best choice for military doctors.

"what?"

The old doctor was taken aback.

"You know medicine?"

Zhu Biao glanced discreetly at his frayed cuffs and the patches under his hem, understanding immediately, and shook his head, saying:

"I've only heard a little about it. May I ask your surname, sir? Are you from Jing County?"

The old doctor paused for a few moments, then said with a sigh:

"No, I am Shi Xinpei. I was originally a healthy man, but I committed a crime fifteen years ago and was exiled here."

"That's good."

Zhu Biao's lips curled up slightly as he muttered something in a voice only he could hear.

The second quarter of the hour of You (5-7 PM).

Zhu Biao tidied himself up carefully, took out his most presentable satin leather robe and put it on. Dragging his still limp body, he went alone to the official residence next to the county government office.

Two rows of armored soldiers stood at the entrance, and a dozen lanterns bearing the words "pacify" illuminated the surrounding area in a blood-red glow, making the soldiers appear like ghosts.

Perhaps this is the origin of people's imagination of the underworld.

"Thank you for your help, Chief Constable. I am Pang Jiyi, the Prefect of Qingzhou's Militia."

Zhu Biao composed himself, handed the visiting card to the head of the Imperial Guard with both hands, and held three taels of silver in his palm.

This was an unspoken rule in the Song Dynasty officialdom: if you didn't pay a visitor's fee, your visiting card would be thrown into a ditch.

There is absolutely no chance of luck.

He had already found out that the deputy envoy who had "lost his official seal" was named Lu Tingji, and Pang Jiyi was his assistant, an eighth-rank official.

Zhu Biao knew perfectly well that if he foolishly sought an audience with Vice Envoy Lu, he would only be humiliating himself.

Sure enough, when he introduced himself as just a local militia leader, even though he had accepted a fee, the Imperial Guard leader still showed disdain.

The Song Dynasty valued civil officials over military ones, and soldiers were referred to as "traitors" and their overall status was extremely low.

Even so, there was still a hierarchy of contempt within the army: the Imperial Guards looked down on the Local Guards, the Local Guards looked down on the Patrol Inspectors, and the Patrol Inspectors despised the Village Soldiers.

Zhu Biao was a local militia leader, a figure at the very bottom of society.

The Imperial Guard leader picked up the visiting card, glanced at it casually, and suddenly his expression changed.

The visiting card was written in beautiful small regular script: "Zhu Biao, respectfully bowing to the esteemed Lord Murong of Qingzhou, Pang Jiyi."

The Imperial Guard leader looked at it several times, and finally bowed, smiled, and clasped his hands in greeting:

"Lord Murong of Qingzhou? Is he the elder brother of Consort Murong of the current dynasty?"

Zhu Biao hurriedly returned the courtesy, his politeness unchanged:

"Indeed, thank you for informing us, Chief Constable."

"Okay, okay, I'll be right back after the training session."

He hurriedly ran towards the post station with the visiting card in his hand, but after only a few steps he turned back, took out the small piece of silver used for the gate fee, and stuffed it into Zhu Biao's hand.

"We're all family here, no need for such formalities."

Zhu Biao grabbed his wrist and pushed him away with a laugh:

"Brother, since we're family, and it's freezing cold, let me offer you a bowl of hot wine. Why be so polite?"

It's easier to see the King of Hell than to deal with his underlings!

If Zhu Biao takes back the money, this guy only needs to make up a story when he announces it later. That scoundrel is very rude and specifically asks Pang Jiyi to come out and see him.

This is a complete disaster!

Zhu Biao stood at the door for a good half-incense stick's time, letting the cold wind blow, before a middle-aged scholar hurried out, his tone quite warm.

"But Brother Zhu Biao, I, Pang, have been waiting for you for a long time, having been at the behest of Lord Lu!"

This man was Pang Jiyi. He wore a fur cloak over a dark-patterned brocade robe, and a gold-embroidered belt with a jade pendant hanging from each side.

"Hiss~"

Upon seeing his deliberately inappropriate attire, Zhu Biao's heart sank.

"Damn it! They're trying to rip me off!"